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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577967">Breaking the Creed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels/pseuds/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels'>Much_Ado_Abt_Novels</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mechanics and Mandalorians [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(I just had to sneak it in there), Bisexual Din Djarin, Cult Recovery, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, a bit of smut at the end, helmet comes off</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:02:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels/pseuds/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Din pours out his heart to you as he confronts his traditionalist upbringing and the creed standards that he no longer holds as absolute truth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mechanics and Mandalorians [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>200</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Breaking the Creed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Where does this fic fit into the arc of the TV show? It doesn’t; it just vibes with it. Don’t bother trying to establish a timeline here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I was raised in a cult.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hadn’t heard Din creep up on you, and his sudden appearance shocked you initially more than his words. Then they sunk in. “What?” you asked. Where was this coming from?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din was leaned against the ladder to the cockpit. Now he slid to the ground, arms resting on his knees. He didn’t look at you even as he kept talking. “Maybe not a cult, but an extremely traditionalist sect. We wanted to retain the culture of our ancestors, the legendary warriors, but we knew so little about what they were actually like. All we had were fragments of stories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You stayed silent, listening. The baby in your arms was quiet too. You still didn’t know how much Basic he understood, but right now he sensed the solemnity of the moment. Or he was just tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mandalore, our planet, was gone,” Din said. “Our clan was living in hiding, trying to survive and pass on the Way to the next generation. We lived in fear of discovery, of not living up to our mission, of dishonoring the little of our heritage that remained. And so, I can see how tenets of the creed became warped as that fear translated to stricter enforcement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You approached slowly, reverently. When Din reached out his hands, you sank into his lap, holding the baby between your chests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din fondled the baby’s ears. “But I’ve met other Mandalorians now who don’t find it strange or forbidden to remove their helmets. Are they
  <em>dar’manda</em>? Is Bo-Katan, heir to the throne, not a true Mandalorian?” He shook his head. “Of course she is. Sharing a name and a face doesn’t take away her upbringing, her training, or her
  <em>mandokar</em>. It wouldn’t take away mine, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s taken this long for me to meet others of my kind. I’m learning not to gatekeep. I returned Boba Fett’s armor to him even though he shouldn’t technically have the right to wear it. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>count </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a Mandalorian.” Din’s voice became strained. “Why the obsession with who counts—with limiting our numbers on technicalities when there are so few of us left?” His grip on your waist tightened. “<em>Cyar’ika</em>, I could have been taking off my helmet this 
  <em>entire time</em>.”
</span></p><p>
  <span>The weight of his words sank into you, and you felt the anguish behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I almost died because I refused to take my helmet off for medical treatment. If it weren’t for a droid convincing me of a loophole, I wouldn’t be here to take care of you and the kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallowed thickly. “I’m glad you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too.” The helmet turned a fraction away from your gaze, his version of staring into space. “There was a Mandalorian boy I trained with years and years ago. We were kids, jacking each other off in closets after sparring. He’s dead now. I saw his helmet after the raids of our hideout on Nevarro. I will never know what he looked like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t have a curse strong enough to convey your sympathy. How could you begin to comprehend how Din was feeling?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a woman far more recently: Omera. A krill farmer on a little backwater planet.” He leaned his head against a ladder rung, and his tone gained a light teasing quality. “Oh, she was beautiful, with long dark hair, and she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>mandokar</span>
  </em>
  <span> in spades. The way she handled a blaster…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You snapped your fingers in front of his visor. “Hello? It’s your current girlfriend here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a huff of laughter, tracing your hairline with a gloved finger. “I almost dropped everything and became a farmer. Can you imagine? She tried to take my helmet off, but I stopped her. I couldn’t break the creed for her.” He paused. “I would for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sucked in a breath. Did he really mean it? Was it fair of you to wish for him to take off his helmet when the idea of it caused him so much conflict?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to. Right now. I no longer believe that removing my helmet would instantly rescind my status as a Mandalorian. But,” he cupped your cheek, “my family. My clan. I don’t know if I could bear becoming </span>
  <em>
    <span>dar’manda</span>
  </em>
  <span> in their eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Din,” you said, “thank you for sharing all this with me. I won’t lie and say I don’t want to see your face, but I will be here for you whatever you decide.” You touched your forehead to his. This was a <em>kov’nyn</em>, you remembered—a Mandalorian equivalent of a tender kiss. You closed your eyes and inhaled, appreciating the intimacy of the gesture. “You mean so much to me, Din, and I know how much the Way means to you. If you wear the helmet our whole lives, I promise that I will love you none the less for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You opened your eyes and pulled back. “Of course I do. Don’t you love me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded slowly twice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt his chest rise and fall under your hand, and the baby chose that moment to sneeze, dissolving the tension that had been gathering like smoke on a ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m doing it,” Din said. “Enough waiting around. I don’t want to die without you and my son ever having seen my face.” Without further hesitation, Din lifted off the helmet and set it aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You inhaled deeply, like a drawn-out gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din’s eyes had followed the helmet as if his very head had been removed and seeing it detached made his skin crawl. Now he looked back at you with soulful brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din had a hooked nose that looked like it had been split open and stitched back together. The scruff on his chin wasn’t well-grown, but he had enough for a little mustache. He was strong-jawed and absolutely beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Din asked. His features were surprisingly expressive. “Still in love with me after getting a good look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span></span></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div><p>
  <span>Din kept the helmet off the rest of the day, frequently smoothing down his hair in an unconscious gesture. He sat cross-legged with the baby as he explored the new face of his father with tiny green hands. “Yes, it’s still me,” Din said. “Strange, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The baby cooed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din looked up and caught you staring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how hard it is not to jump you right now?” you said. You couldn’t get over how handsome he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do have some idea, yes.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. <em>A smile</em>. “Keep testing my self-control by looking at me like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You knelt at his side and took his face in your hands. You pressed your lips to his again. You couldn’t get enough. “We shouldn’t,” you said between kisses. “We have a child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A child who is literally right here. Yes.” Din tilted back his head as you kissed his neck. He groaned. “We can lock him in the pram.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll hear,” you said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can be quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we have to wait until he falls asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wait was agony. The two of you exchanged glances and touches all evening, touches that grew bolder as time dragged on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love that I can just walk up to you and kiss you,” Din said. His hands hit the wall to either side of you, trapping you in place, and he kissed the side of your neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Din!” you protested. The baby in your arms patted Din’s chin. You ducked out from under his arms. “Stop tempting me. Here, hold your son for a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, after several hours, the baby got sleepy. He could barely keep his huge eyes open, but he was cranky and didn’t want to be put down to bed. You meandered around the ship, bouncing and rocking him and begging him to please, please go to sleep. Fed up and desperate, you addressed Din. “Would you mind if I tried singing to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din’s eyes went wide. Did he realize how easily emotions showed on his unmasked face? “You sing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not really. But I’m willing to try anything at this point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My voice is bad, Din. I’m just warning you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on a crate expectantly and laced his hands together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took a deep breath and tried to ignore him as you started a lullaby. It was from your home planet of Corellia and described building a toy for a child, adding a new piece each cycle of the song while listing all the ones that had come before. By the second verse, the baby had quieted, and by the tenth, he was nodding off in your arms. You laid him down in the pram and closed the lid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get over here and fuck me right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” you chuckled self-consciously. “After that performance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You took his hand. “Let’s go to your room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were on each other the moment the door slid shut. Din unbuttoned your loose outer shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to fall to the ground. Your undershirt was form-fitting, especially around the chest to hold your breasts in place. He pulled it off over your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You unclipped his belt and delved your hand into his pants to grasp his already-hard erection. Now, you could see his face as he moaned and leaned into your touch. There was nothing as beautiful as his eyes fluttering closed and eyebrows furrowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He helped you strip off the rest of his clothes, and yours, and then he lifted you onto the cot. It was at exactly the right height for you to sit on the edge and fit him between your legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid to close my eyes,” you said as he entered you. “Even to look away. I don’t want this to disappear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nuzzled your cheek, thrusting into your heat. “I took it off, <em>cyar’ika</em>. I can take it off whenever I want, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was pure bliss, this open vulnerability. Everything you had ever secretly yearned for was here. You could </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, see each expression, see how his eyes darkened as he peered down at the spot your hips met his. You were so unbelievably horny for him. It had built up all day since his confessions about his upbringing, and now it was swelling with each press of his dick deep inside you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Din brought your hand to his face and kissed your wrist, your palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You recognized all of this from the countless times you’d had sex with him before, yet it was different to be able to visualize what was happening rather than trying to recreate an image through a blindfold. Was it different for him too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m never turning off the lights again,” Din said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both held out as long as you could, but then, why should you? There would be more moments like this—many more. He was yours, he loved you, and he had chosen you to bare his face to for the first time since childhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you regret it?” you whispered later before drifting off to sleep in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mando'a translations:</p><p>Dar’manda [dar-MAHN-da]: a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade</p><p>Mandokar [MAN-doh-KAR]: the Mandalorian spirit - the *right stuff*, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life</p><p>Cyar’ika [shar-EE-kah]: darling, sweetheart</p><p>Kov’nyn [KOHV-neen]: head-butt, Keldable Kiss</p></blockquote></div></div>
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